


Buttons

by Lightning_Strikes_Again



Series: DotU: Lotor's Three Bids for the Heart of Princess Allura [1]
Category: Voltron: Defender of the Universe (1984)
Genre: Allura dancing to the provocative tunes of The Pussycat Dolls, Awkward Encounters, F/M, Lotor.exe stops working for a bit, Lotura - Freeform, Sexual innuendos, dotu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-14 23:05:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16050419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightning_Strikes_Again/pseuds/Lightning_Strikes_Again
Summary: Princess Allura of Arus likes dancing to catchy Earth music when she’s alone. Drule Prince Lotor likes trying to spirit Allura away to become his queen. Their agendas result in a rather odd encounter, complete with berries and blushes—and something about loosening up buttons.





	Buttons

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, all! Welcome to my first attempt to write Voltron: Defender of the Universe (1984) content. I'm usually in the Legendary Defender space and have only recently watched a few DotU episodes, so this is pretty new for me. I hope you enjoy it!

Heavy, black boots landed hard in the grass of planet Arus. Drule Prince Lotor stood up to his full height, his reptilian eyes narrowed in the sunlight. “At last,” he murmured to himself. He pulled off his helmet and tossed it to the ground. “The princess will be mine on this day.”

Lotor had secretly flown to Arus under the radar of his father, determined that if he kidnapped the princess, one of two things would happen: Either the incomplete Voltron force would pledge the surrender of planet Arus to guarantee her safety (they were sentimental like that), or Allura would finally see for herself all the wealth and luxury he could afford her, and she would agree to become his queen.

He much preferred the second option, for Allura was as fiery as she was beautiful, and Arus was nothing to him without her by his side. 

But his very presence that day was a result of the difficulties he had in courting her, in which she rejected his every offer—even flowers, which were his attempt to follow an Arusian ritual. All that she ever seemed to afford him were her virginal blushes, her slaps, her stutters that he was such an indecent man…

Now, he was having to consider new approaches. More dramatic ones. 

Lotor’s jaw set as his slit pupils focused on the far-distant Castle of Lions. On his skull belt, he carried a thick cord with which to tie her wrists.

He wondered if perhaps he could persuade her to leave with him willingly. He did not want to manhandle her into ropes, or bruise her dainty, little wrists, not even in the name of conquering Arus. She was so small and weak—like a bird he could snap in two.

“ _Weak_ ,” his father’s voice snapped at him from memory. “ _She is a weak girl, weaker than your own mother. Even if you were to marry this Princess Allura, she’d die bearing your child. Forget about her. Conquest is a far more fruitful pursuit than capturing your little bird."_

Something uncomfortable rose within him as he clenched his gloved fist. The thought of Princess Allura dying in any capacity left his chest tight.

It made the rope at his hip feel tainted.

“No,” he murmured, his white brows knitting together. “She is stronger than you believe, father.” His set his yellow eyes to the distant horizon, where the beloved princess likely was. “And the conquest for her heart is far more rewarding.”

He decided then to readjust his strategy—to find a way to persuade her to him, if he could. It would do no good for her to redden her cheeks with tears of pain and sorrow from being forced along. Likely, she would only despise him more.

And he wanted nothing more if not her willing love.  

He knelt down into the grass, stretching out his large palm. The planet of Arus pulsed with an enduring, vibrant energy unmatched by his own jaded home world. He wondered if perhaps Arus knew he was partially of its blood, for it called to him in mystical ways that he could not quite explain. It _knew_ him.

Its winds stroked his sharp, tired cheek.

And then suddenly the wind switched to another direction, flickering his hair. His elfin ears perked as he followed it, turning from the Castle of Lions to a nearby forest in the distance.

Lotor’s vision sharpened as he focused on the waves of the wind, which slipped between the opening of two trees and into the darkness. “You devious thing,” he murmured to the planet, standing up. “Betraying the location of the princess to me, your enemy.”

The wind caressed his cheek again, brushing back the wild locks of his hair.

If he didn’t know better, he would have thought the strange planet were attempting to mother him.

* * *

 

At that time, one Princess Allura of Arus was in the middle of a forest opening, giggling to herself as she kneeled before a small Earth device with speakers. The technology of Earth humans was so curious and fun—Lance had let her borrow his “stereo” after he’d surprised her with the sound of the music it could play. It had delighted her, to hear such complex sound from such a small thing.

And Earth music was so visceral—the war drum pounding in the background alongside smooth voices in tight harmonies. It made her foot tap and her heart jump.

It made her want to move.

To _dance_ without inhibition, which was a questionable thing for a single girl—much less the refined, delicate princess—to do out in the open on Planet Arus.

Lance had laughed when she’d admitted such, and he had done a little jig of his own, his long limbs waving about like a disjointed bean stalk. “ _On Earth_ ,” he’d called merrily. “ _We dance all the time! We don’t even follow the rules of dancing—we just do whatever comes to mind! Whatever feels right. Anyone can dance!_ ”

Allura pushed the next button on the stereo, biting her lip. “Well. What Nanny doesn’t know,” she murmured playfully, “won’t hurt her, right?”

A berry basket sat next to the small, portable stereo—her excuse for going alone into the forest.

Her current favorite song began to play, rising with some kind of instrumentation that Lance had explained was supposed to mimic music from a certain region on Earth. And then the drums and the sassy female voices kicked in—

—Allura grabbed her berry basket, her sweet voice joining those of the singers in laughter as the music rose up within the trees, cradled from the outside world by the blanketing leaves. She pulled the tie from her strawberry blond hair and released her coiled locks to fly free in the wind at last.

* * *

 

The Drule prince held his sword in his right hand, his muscles flexed in anticipation for a fight. His little bird had grown sharper in the months past, her movements more calculated and trained, even if she could never hope to hold up against his brute strength. He did not trust that she would not have a hidden dagger up her sleeve, especially if she were alone in such a forest.

But long before he caught sight of her, he heard a curious sound.

It sounded like…war drums? Fast music? Female voices?

Lotor’s white brows furrowed as he failed to place the types of instruments, knowing only that they were foreign to his home world and to any planet he had conquered. Something about the music sounded too on-key and perfect to be a live performance.

It lit the fires of his warrior heart with the sound of the drums pounding away, and he slipped behind the trees as he moved closer, his movements as silent as a predator.

And then he heard her voice above the music—she was _singing_ along with it.

The sound struck him again, his little bird warbling with laughter as the song’s chorus lifted up throughout the clearing. It was such a beautiful, pure sound.

But the _words_.

_Oh, the dirty words his pure angel was singing!_

The suave, battle-hardened expression on his face melted away into wide eyes and a dropped jaw, his fangs catching the sunlight.

He forgot himself entirely, slipping from behind the trees to stare at her in shock. His heavy sword fell from his slacked grasp to land in the grass.

One Princess Allura of Arus was spinning free in circles, her arms raised up to the sky with a basket in her hand, her strawberry blond hair a whirlwind about her bare shoulders. The skirts of her pink dress swung about, revealing her dainty ankles. “I’m telling you to loosen up my buttons, baby!” she sang without a care in the world. “But you keep fronting! Saying what you gonna do to me! But I ain’t seen nothing!”

On the far side of the clearing, Lotor had frozen entirely, his eyes widening farther.

“I’m telling you to loosen up my—!”

And then Allura’s voice cut off in a sharp squeak as she turned, freezing in the middle of a somewhat provocative jaunt of her hips, her eyes landing on him. The basket in her hand fell to the grass, scattering several wild berries to the ground.

The music kept playing in the background, repeating the promiscuous words in another chorus.

Her blue eyes stared at his in absolute horror, and they held that way for some time, the wind swirling against them, pushing against their backs to pull them closer together.

“Lotor?” Allura breathed, his name something between a curse and a prayer. She backstepped then, her breath hitching as all the glorious freedom in her body tightened into fear. She raised one of her small hands, crying out above the music, “S-stay back!” She nearly stumbled back in her silk slippers, her skirts twisting about her legs.

She was panicking now. The Drule prince had tracked her down into a forest where no one would hear her screams. It was just him and her.

She inched closer to the stereo and slammed her heel against the off button in hopes that a quieter field might perhaps help her screams to carry farther, if he were to try anything untoward to her. The song cut off mid-sentence, dying away in a sharp click.

Allura’s fingers shook as she pulled a small blade from up her bell sleeve, arranging her slippered feet to lunge, just as Keith and Lance had taught her.

The gleam of sunlight off the silver blade seemed to shake the prince out of his daze. His reptilian eyes narrowed in a show of surprise—and appreciation. He raised up his large hands then, in hopes of disarming her of her fear. “I am not here to hurt you, princess,” he called to her. But his voice was strained.

And…was that a flush on his face?

It made him look younger somehow, as if he were caught off guard just as much as she was.

Her blue eyes tightened. “If you’re not here to hurt me, then why do you carry ropes at your side?” She stiffened her stance further. “Don’t tell me you’re here to take me away. I won’t go. I absolutely will not.”

The handsome prince dared to lower one of his hands to his belt to toss the ropes away to the grass. He’d been learning her love language for some time now and had known that she did not like a show of force—at least, not a show of force against her. He still grimaced, knowing that his chances of persuading her to go away with him willingly were nil. “I want to speak with you, princess.”

“How did you fly here undetected?” she demanded, still raising her blade.

Something about her—the fire in her eyes, her cute and somewhat sloppy battle stance—made his heart squish. He barely heard her words. “Cloaking technology,” he called to her. “Something you and the paladins should invest in to remain hidden from my father. Now, I should like to speak to you about—”

“—I’m not done asking questions,” she said, eyes narrowed despite the waver in her voice.

Her sharp attempt to usurp control of the conversation made his slit pupils dilate and his lips to split wide, revealing sharp fangs. His sweet, little bird could warble such pretty songs. The red in her blond hair caught the sunlight as the strands flickered around her face, appearing as flames.

 _Oh_ , he thought. If she said anything more contrary to him, he would struggle not to kiss her right there.

A fire bird.

His little phoenix, rising from the ashes of her fearful heart.

Her sweet voice cut into his thoughts. “Why have you sought me out like this? We have nothing to discuss.”

His head tilted, a few strands of his white hair slipping against his sharp cheek. “I believe we do.”

Allura swallowed hard. “No, we don’t. You will retreat back to your ship,” she commanded, voice wavering. “And you will stay there until the Voltron force and I return for you. If there is anything to discuss, it can be done before an audience, at a neutral location.”

His lips stretched again, wider this time. “Quoting the old war accords now, are we?” He stepped forward.

She stepped back, still holding the blade at the level of his heart. “Don’t come any closer to me. I don’t want any trouble from you.”

“There are many forms of trouble, Allura,” he murmured to her, allowing his gaze to wander down her bare neck and the dainty lines of her shoulders. “The amount of trouble you afford me is much greater than what I could ever give to you.”

The princess fell silent at that, her pale cheeks flushing with indignation at the feeling of his eyes running down her body. She backstepped again.

But he followed. As he drew near, the great, strong shadow of his body blocked some of the sunlight above.

Her breath hitched. “I will hurt you,” she promised. “I may not be the swordsman you are, but I will not let you touch me without consequence.”

Lotor huffed, his eyes slipping back up to focus on hers. “Then if you intend to strike me, your grip on that blade would be better served by angling your wrist. As you are now, you could perhaps cut me, but not without the drag of muscle and bone loosening the hilt from those pretty fingers of yours.”

The violence of his words made her pale a bit, as if she were for the first time considering what it would mean to wield the knife. “I don’t—I don’t _want_ to hurt you. You can step away, and we can avoid the whole thing.”

The strong prince kneeled down to the grass then. His large hand sought the handle of her fallen basket—cute, pink like she was. Its handle was dwarfed by his fingers as he raised it up. “Never raise a blade,” he murmured to her, “unless you are confident in using it.”

And then, without preamble, he held out the basket to her, silent, waiting.

The silence stretched between them for a time as Allura held the blade, which now shook in her hands.

“Tell me, Allura,” Lotor said, a rough humor lilting his voice. “Why are you alone in this forest, singing for someone to loosen your buttons?” His lips stretched. “Such words can bring strange men calling.”

Her pale cheeks flared with a blush of horror, having nearly forgotten the circumstances of their meeting. That was right, she thought. He’d seen her. He’d seen her dancing and carrying on like some wild child.

Oh, her Nanny would just die if she knew about this—!

“In an even greater tragedy,” Lotor declared to her, “it appears your dress has no buttons for me to loosen. But I humbly offer my assistance in pulling down that zipper I saw on the back.”

If it were possible, the blush on her pretty face stretched to the tips of her ears and down the front of her body, sweeping even further below the sweetheart line of her dress.

“Perhaps,” he murmured, taking great pleasure in her blush, “there are other buttons upon you I cannot yet see. Buttons for me to loosen, to help you find a release…?”

Allura gasped, quickly grabbing for her basket. Her small fingers accidentally brushed against his own in the exchange, sending a spark of fire between them both. “You are a brute,” she cried to him, still blushing. “You shouldn’t speak to people like that.”

He did nothing—he did not attempt to grab her wrist despite his quick reflexes, and he did not pursue her as she stepped away again. “How should I speak to you then, princess?” he murmured, attempting to play her game. But he could not help getting in another jab. “The songs you sing with that sweet mouth of yours suggest you’re a bit dirtier than you let on.”

She made a squeak. “It’s just a song! I don’t even—I don’t even know what it means!”

That inspired his white brow to fly up. “Allura,” he deadpanned, “you called out to the forest that you want a man to fulfill his promise to undress and ravish you.”

Her eye twitched. Her full little lips dropped open as she stood there, horrified.

He chuckled at her, and it was a merry, genuine sound. “What did you think it meant, hmm? Do tell me, for I have not had such an innocent mind in…quite a while.”

Allura began to sputter, “I don’t—I don’t know! I just liked the song and didn’t really think about—” her voice cut off as she lowered the blade, staring at him in even greater embarrassment than before. “It’s just a silly Earth song.”

“Then I like Earth music,” he murmured. “For what it does to you. How it makes you dance and sing so recklessly, as if you were a harem girl.”

Her breath hitched. “I am not a harem girl. I am Princess Allura of Arus, and you would do well to respect my station.”

Lotor stepped forward, the wind slicking back his hair. He delicately lifted his aristocratic nose, catching her sweet scent on the wind and the smell of wild berries. “Yes,” he breathed, as if in a moan. His yellow eyes were half-lidded in attraction as he stared at her. “Though now I cannot help but imagine you performing such a private dance for me.”

Up went the blade again, her shoulders tightening. “Do not step any closer to me.”

“You simply do not understand,” he said in a pout. “Your song is most wise, for I have made many promises about the sweet love I would lavish upon you, and yet—” He waved his hand—“I have nothing to show for it.”

That inspired fear, true fear, in her big, blue eyes. “You will not touch me.”

He smiled. “No,” he agreed. “I will not, if it frightens you so.” He reached out to the nearby berry bush and plucked a sweet berry from the vine. He beheld it with a half-curious gaze, and then he turned his palm upward, holding the berry out to her. “You call me a brute. You think I only bruise and destroy sweet, delicate things. I see now that I must prove otherwise to you.”

The dark berry was small in the palm of his hand—a hand that had waged war and killed thousands for sport. And yet, the helpless berry remained cradled against his love line on his hand, its form unhindered and shining bright.

“That annoying woman who follows you about,” Lotor murmured, “will be suspicious if you do not return to the castle without your berries. I shall help you pick some, and I shall never speak of your promiscuous dancing, if you do not run away to call the Voltron force here.”

And then he moved forward, offering the berry to her from a closer distance.  

Allura held steady for a time before the knife began to shake in her hand once more, and she lowered it with a most unusual expression on her face, as if she were attempting to calculate his sincerity. “I do not believe,” she said primly, “that you flew all this way, at great risk to yourself and your ship, simply to pick berries with me.”

That made him laugh again. The action smoothed out the roughness of his voice and made him seem quite handsome, his slit pupil glimmering not with darkness—but with delight. “Your designs are always higher than my own, princess.”

“Why did you come here, truly?” she asked quietly.

His eyes slid to hers. “To make you my queen,” he said simply. “But I see I frighten you. You do not think me deserving of you, and so I must prove myself to you, in a way that you understand.” His voice softened. “I am still learning this strange culture of yours.” His face twisted in an odd way. "Please, princess."

Allura hesitated.

And then she tossed aside her knife, still eyeing him. "I've never heard you say _please_ before." It inspired a bit of confidence in her, and she moved to pluck the berry from his gloved hand. Her small, pale fingers tickled his palm with the action, and she quickly pulled away to drop the perfect berry in her basket. She gave him a suspicious look, as if expecting for him to grab her suddenly.

He did no such thing, but instead turned his handsome face away from her, his reptilian eyes sharpening upon the nearby bush. He reached out and plucked another perfect berry, careful not to squish it with his strength or puncture it with his nails. He rolled it between his fingers for a second or two, inspecting its smooth skin before offering it to her. “Nothing but the best for you,” he murmured.

Lotor’s words sent a spike of emotion through her as she dared to draw closer to him. This time, her fingers lingered against his palm a second longer than before, as if she were a cornered animal slowly testing the goodwill of the being before her.

She pulled the berry away, and instead of dropping it into her basket, she maintained her gaze upon him as she opened her mouth and ate the berry.

He swallowed hard, his irises dilating with the thrill of her presence—that she would dare to eat of fruit he had picked for her.

The juice of the berry stained her lips blue at the edge. “How are you so good at finding the perfect ones?” she asked hesitantly, looking almost jealous of his ability.

The prince turned away and declared, “My senses are better than yours.”

Allura blushed and then looked away, falling back into some form of uncomfortable uncertainty. “Yes. I suppose they would be.”

He kneeled down to the grass again, searching, voice distracted. “I can smell which are overripe, and which are not yet ready to be plucked. The ones that smell the sweetest are the ones to pursue.” He pulled another berry, slipping it against his lips and daring to eat the fruit of Arus. His eyes slid to her as his fangs crunched down on the berry, the juice staining his lips and tongue to match her own.

Allura was beginning to wonder when they had stopped talking about fruit, because he was staring at her suddenly as if he desired to eat her more than he did the berry. Strange that it did not make her fearful. She instead felt something odd spike down her spine, just as she had when she had accidentally touched his hand.

“I am not a berry to be plucked,” she said, swallowing hard.

Lotor inhaled deeply, closing his eyes. “But you are the sweetest of them all,” he murmured. “And here you are, singing for a man to ravish you.”

Her full lips pursed as she gave him a critical look. “It is just a song. I will never play that song or dance again if keeps these ideas out of your head.”

He opened his eyes and pulled another berry from the bush. “Then who do you desire to undress and ravish you, if not me?” He lightly tossed the berry, and then several more, into her pink, little basket.

Allura scoffed. “My desires are not your business.”

“I should like to make them my business,” he declared, picking more berries. “Whatever you desire, my sweet, I would offer it to you. I would feed these berries to you as a slave if you asked it of me.”

His words sent another spike of emotion through her, and she nervously looked away, attempting to hide her face beneath the curtain of her free, long hair. The thought of the proud, powerful prince lowering himself to the position of a slave before her was a curious concept.

It inspired a dirty thought in her—an image of him dressed as one of the male slaves from the Drule empire, his chiseled chest bare before her eyes, the cloth about his waist riding low—

The fantasy in her mind struck her so soundly in surprise of the desire she felt that she accidentally burst the berry in her hand, the juice sliding down her fingers and her palm. “Oh!” she said, her eyes widening as she desperately held out her hand to keep the berry juice from sliding onto her pink dress, dropping the burst shell into the grass.

Lotor’s eyes gleamed as he stared at her in delight, flashing her his fangs. “It seems,” he said, “you do not know your own increasing strength." 

Her pretty face studded with a horrid blush, and suddenly she could not look at him, feeling dirty for imagining Lotor—her enemy!—so undressed.

In her fluttering panic, she hardly realized that Lotor had gently grabbed for her berry-stained hand. His reptilian eyes remained trained on her as he lowered his lips to her palm. His warm, hot tongue peeked from his lips to slid without preamble from the tips of her fingers to her delicate wrist.

His tongue was _long_.

“Oh,” she said again, her eyes wide as dinner plates, her heart pounding. And yet, she did not pull away from him, and his grip upon her arm remained gentle and loose.  

Those yellow eyes of his fluttered then, closing as he fervently licked her hand once more, his strong tongue and its rough edges catching the berry juice, his action more deliberate now that she had not pulled away or smacked him the first time.

Her fingers trembled. Her voice was hitched in a way he had never heard before. “This is—oh, um—”

Watching and feeling him lick her clean felt so inappropriate and dirty—and worshipful. It made her breath quicken and her heart pound as something uncomfortable settled deep within her. The feeling was a heaviness, a terrible fire in an embarrassingly intimate place, right between her legs.

She had never felt a burn there before.

His handsome face carried such a desperation to it as he reveled in the seconds, pressing his lips to her palm before gently pulling away.

His eyes were heavy as they searched hers, testing whether she would bolt.

Allura remained frozen, her hand still partially held out to him, her lips dropped open.

“That is what I would do for you,” he promised, voice hot. “To every inch of your body, if you were to become my wife.”

Her breath hitched, her blush deepening.

He tilted his head, his white hair fanning against his shoulder. “But if you asked me to loosen your buttons outside the confines of marriage, I would do it then as well.” And he smiled cheekily then, his berry-stained lips stretching in a handsome way.

Allura suddenly recoiled her hand. “You scoundrel,” she finally managed to stutter, her body burning hot with his touch. Her hand felt slick from his tongue and was cold now, making her goose-bump from the myriad of sensations. Even the wind against suddenly felt strange, as if it were too much.

As if everything were too much.

Lotor laughed at her lightly, taking great delight in her stutters and insults and the best blush he had achieved from her yet. “Not to worry, my sweet,” he told her. He leaned in, his aristocratic nose nearly brushing against hers. He knew he was treading into dangerous water. “If you ever need a man to make love to you, call for me, and I will be there.”

Her pretty face twitched with so many emotions that it inspired another laugh from him as he pulled away, standing up to his full, regal height. He bowed to her in a stiff way—he so rarely bowed, but he certainly would for her—and then he added, “You have enough berries now to return to the Castle of Lions. But I suggest you stay here for a time yet, to let the wind cool that blush of yours.”

Allura pursed her lips, caught between calling him names and crying out of embarrassment and shame. Even now, she felt the ache. “Do not tell me what to do,” she finally managed, her sweet voice strangling in her voice.

Lotor’s slit pupils focused on her, a spark of his usual, evil self glimmering through. “I enjoy picking berries with you, princess. I shall visit you again sometime, and perhaps I might yet become a suitor on your list. But for now, I must return to my father’s empire. Until next time.”

And then, despite his desire not to, he turned around and began to walk away, the wind threading through his hair.

Of all things, he began humming that damn Earth song about the buttons and the fronting, looking far more satisfied with himself than ever as he picked up his fallen sword and sheathed it.

Allura remained in a puff of her skirts on the grass as she watched him go, neither crying out to alert Arus of his presence nor running away to alert the Voltron force.

This, she began to understand, was some kind of all-new war he had never before enacted.

The Drule prince was _learning_ her, tempering down his demands while enticing her with new persuasions. And even worse, he was teaching her things along the way.

Like how much she wanted to feel his tongue upon her again.

That she could burn from touch alone.

The innocent princess remained sitting there in the open clearing for a long, long time before her blush cooled, in awe that she could feel it for herself now. The tension.

“Oh,” she whispered to the trees. “I am in a lot of trouble now. I’m never listening to Lance’s music again. Never, never.”

And the wind of Arus simply stroked her cheek, as if it were laughing.  

* * *

 

Lotor flipped various switches in his cruiser ship, still humming the Earth song, which was unbearably catchy. As he did so, the interface before him flickered to life with an incoming transmission. He pushed a button to accept the frequency, and soon, the interface reconfigured into the image of his subordinate, Commander Cossack.

“Do you have the girl?” the Drule asked gruffly.

“No.” The megathrusters began to fire as his ship cloaked itself with invisibility. “But I have something even better.”

Cossack asked dryly, “…And what, in your eyes, is that?”

Lotor stared at the interface, looking mischievous and triumphant, as if he had won a most advantageous battle. He declared, “At last, I have her _attention_.”

**Author's Note:**

> The other night, I listened to Buttons by The Pussycat Dolls, and this image of DotU Allura dancing like an innocent lil bab to something sexy while Lotor stared on, drop-jawed, just hit me? So I had to get that out of my system, haha, and it somehow evolved into this short story. I’m not sure if I perfectly captured DotU Lotor, but I gave it my best shot! 
> 
> Please let me know your thoughts! Thanks for reading!


End file.
